The Pirate Story Megapack. R.M. Ballantyne

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СКАЧАТЬ Bart, “we’ll have to do as we’ve done before—grin and bear it.”

      “But it’s a great deal harder to grin now than it used to be,” said Phil, plaintively; “and I can’t bear it at all.”

      “O, well, Captain Corbet’ll work his way along. He understands fog, at any rate.”

      “Well, I don’t altogether think so,” said Bruce. “After losing himself so utterly a few days ago, and fetching up at Sable Island, I rather begin to doubt his power to understand fog.”

      “O, well, that was in a strange place.”

      “Well, this is a strange place.”

      “Not quite. We are getting well on towards the Bay of Fundy.”

      “Well, we’re not there yet. As yet, we’re in the Atlantic Ocean. Now, Captain Corbet got lost once before in this same place,—the Atlantic Ocean,—and it’s my fixed belief that he’ll do it again.”

      “O, we know where the coast of Nova Scotia is now, and we’re all right. I’m determined to look on the bright side.”

      “Well, and I’m determined to be prepared for the worst.”

      The event showed that this fog did not have a bright side, and that it was wiser, in these circumstances, to be prepared for the worst. That day passed, and the fog still held on. The wind that brought the fog was strong, steady, and sustained, showing neither violence nor irresolution, but blowing in a way that promised to last long after their stock of patience was exhausted. It was a sou’-wester, the wind of fog and storm.

      After another day had passed, Captain Corbet’s face assumed an expression, the meaning of which was but too well known to all the boys through sad experience. That meaning was, that he was puzzled, that he was uncertain, hesitating, and not decided where to go. And the boys discussed this among themselves, and perceived that once again their good, their venerable, their modest, but, after all, somewhat incapable commander had again lost his way.

      “Ye see,” said he to Bruce, who mentioned this to him in a mild way,—”ye see thar’s ben so much tackin backard an forard that I kine o’ got out o’ the knack of it, an thar’s a kink or two in my cal’lations. Ef we hadn’t got to allus beat up agin this sou’-wester, we’d manage to keep a better course; but, as it is, we ain’t got no course in pa’ticular, wuth mentionin. An then thar’s them tides, an currents, an all that; an what with them, an tackin, an the fog, why, it’s got to be precious hard navigatin.”

      “But why don’t you keep well in to the Nova Scotia shore?”

      “Wal, that thar’s the very identical thing I’m a drivin at, an I dar say, if the fog was to lift, you’d see it quite handy over thar.”

      “But where are we now?”

      “Wal, as nigh as I can cal’clate, we’ve about got to the end of Nova Scotia; an I’ve a mind to take a long tack to the nothe-west, next turn, an hain’t got no reasonable doubt but what we’ll keep on till we fetch up in old Fundy.”

      All this was rather disheartening to the boys. They saw that Captain Corbet did not even profess to have any exact knowledge of his position, and, judging from the past, they did not believe that he had any. Still, the change of course which he announced was something, and it seemed to afford some slight material for hope.

      At length the Antelope came round on her next tack, and, taking a north-west course, she kept it for some time. At first the captain was rather watchful; but, after three or four hours, his vigilance began to relax, and at length he ventured to announce to the boys that they must be in the Bay of Fundy.

      “An when I’m here, in this Bay o’ Fundy, boys, mind you,” said he, with something of exultation in his tone,—”when I’m here, why, I’m to hum. These waters was the place whar I sported in boyhood’s days. Here I matoored into a man. Here I’ve held commoon with the ragin biller, an rode on the kerest of the toomultus ocean. You can’t disturb me when I’m in old Fundy. It’s my hum. Fog an tide hev ben my companions from childhood, an the Bay of Fundy recognizes in the aged Corbet her—”

      But what he was going to say was never said, for the word was taken out of his mouth, and exchanged for the interjection,—

      “Hallo!”

      The Antelope had come to a sudden stop. The shock was strong enough to knock Captain Corbet on his knees, and huddle all the boys together in a startled and struggling crowd.

      In an instant Corbet was on his feet, and rushed forward to see what was the matter. The boys followed. The helm was left to take care of itself, and the sails snapped and fluttered in the wind. All was confusion.

      “Why, I do believe,” said the captain, “I do railly believe she’s struck! Dear me! Wal, I never! This—doos—beat—my—grandmother!”

      This allusion to his grandmother, under such circumstances, far from reassuring the boys, only excited their alarm the more, and made them think that their revered commander had lost his senses.

      “Boys,” cried Bruce, “the Antelope’s struck, and is sinking. We’ll have to take to the boat. I’ll fill a keg of water. The rest of you gather a supply of biscuit for a week, and one of you bring the compass.”

      “O, no; don’t trouble yourselves,” said Captain Corbet. “It’s—it’s—not—the slightest consekence. Don’t—don’t—hurry.”

      But these and other words were lost on the boys, who, now in the full conviction that the Antelope was sinking, hurried to do as Bruce had told them.

      But Tom and Pat held back. Pat rushed to the mainmast, and busied himself with some ropes; and Tom went to the pump, and, after taking a peep into the hold, began pumping.

      After a minute or so he called out,—

      “I say, boys, there’s no hurry. There’s no water in her.”

      These words made the others desist from their preparations. Seeing Tom pumping, it struck them all that this was better than taking to the boat; so they all hurried to his help. As yet, however, there was nothing to be done.

      “O, thar’s no danger in p’tic’lar,” said Captain Corbet. “She’s struck a sand-bank, paps, or, paps, a reef, somewhars. An now I wonder whar it can be.”

      To this remark, which showed his utter ignorance of the situation, the boys had no reply to make. Bruce, however, tied an iron belaying-pin to a rope, and began sounding for bottom. At the stern he found three fathoms, at the bows only three feet. He took a boat-hook, and, plunging it down into the water at the bows, found that it was smooth sand, and the bows were resting upon it. This gave some comfort, for he hoped that they might yet escape.

      But the wind was strong, and the waves made the Antelope roll and work about in her sandy bed after a most unpleasant fashion. If this continued long, the boys knew that the schooner would be lost, for she could not resist such a strain as this. Still, they turned their thoughts now rather to the task of saving her, if possible, than taking to the boat; and so, lowering the sails, so as to lessen the effect of the wind upon her, they set to work, some with the sweeps rowing, and others with the boat-hook pushing, and thus they tried to get her off the sand-bank.

      “It’s СКАЧАТЬ